


'Gliding' is Far Too Graceful a Term

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Het, Holding Hands, Hot Chocolate, Ice Skating, Ichabod Crane vs. the 21st Century, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie teaches Crane to ice skate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Gliding' is Far Too Graceful a Term

"Come on, Crane."

"I do believe that this is doomed to fail, Lieutenant."

"You're not a member of Sleepy Hollow until you sneak onto the frozen lake to ice skate," Abbie replied, tromping through the snow to join Ichabod. "Come on."

"This is yet another example of our combined delinquency." Crane frowned, looking imperviously down at the skates laced up on his feet. "There's an improper distribution of weight. How am I supposed to stand, let alone... ice skate?"

"Well, you can't learn sitting there. Come on." She held out her hands.

Ichabod sighed heavily, reaching up to tangle his gloved fingers within hers. "My life is in your hands, Lieutenant," he said, wobbling precariously as he stood.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Abbie replied. "Look, you didn't even fall."

"I am not yet on the ice, Lieutenant. Let us not have undue excitement when the real trial has yet to begin."

"Let us get _on_ the ice before we start thinking about failure," Abbie reminded, taking a step backwards and forcing Ichabod to take a step forward.

"I feel like I am about to fall on my face," Crane muttered.

"Oh, as funny as that might be, I wouldn't let you fall on your face. That's why I'm here, so you don't."

"Well, that's reassuring," Crane continued, taking another step. He teetered again, but his next step was even steadier. "Walking doesn't seem to be as difficult as I thought it would be."

"Maybe gravity smiles upon those who are meant to stop the apocalypse," Abbie said with a smile, stepping back onto the ice.

"I don't think we'd be so lucky," Ichabod said, pausing at the edge where the snow met the ice. He eyed the glassy solid with no little amount of indecision.

"Craaane," Abbie laughed, gripping tighter at his hand.

Ichabod felt like he was in danger of losing circulation in his fingers. "This is a horrible idea, Lieutenant."

"Just _trust_ me," she laughed.

"I do," he replied automatically. "I simply do not trust these contraptions. Or my coordination. Or gravity," he added.

"Come on," Abbie repeated, sliding backwards again.

Ichabod had no choice but to stumble forward, the metally-bit on his skate hitting the ice and, immediately, his foot slipped and he struggled to keep his balance.

"Careful," Abbie said, gripping one of his arms, keeping her hand entwined with one of his. "Don't thump around."

"I was not thumping," Crane muttered, gripping Abbie's arm loosely as she still hung on to him.

"I'm going to go backwards, you shuffle forward."

"Fine." Ichabod licked his lips in concentration - and then winced when he remembered that the temperatures were frigid, and now his lips would chap - and pushed his left foot forward, and then his right. It was difficult, it was different from walking, and he managed this for approximately five paces before it went out from under him.

Abbie did her best to keep him on his feet, but he ended up landing hard on his backside, nonetheless, his exhale of surprise turning into condensation in the air.

"Are you okay?"

Crane braced himself against the ice with one gloved hand and took Abbie's hand with his other. "I am resilient, Lieutenant."

Abbie chuckled and helped him up.

　

 

"This is when the marvels of the 21st century pays off," Ichabod commented, curling his fingers around the ceramic mug. He had been hesitant to remove his gloves after taking a seat on the rotting log near the lake, but as his fingers warmed around the hot mug, he decided it was worth it.

"Yeah... Hot chocolate in a thermos. Can't go wrong," Abbie replied. "To 'the marvels of the 21st century,'" she said, embellishing with what was possibly one of the worst British accents Ichabod had ever heard.

"Were you perhaps attempting to impersonate me?" he asked, although he toasted with a gentle clinking of their mugs together.

Abbie grinned over her hot chocolate. "Maybe."

"It was inaccurate, Lieutenant," he replied, smiling over his mug as well, "but I will let it slide in favour of consuming this delicious beverage."

"I can't believe you've never had hot chocolate before, Crane." Abbie stretched her legs out in front of her, digging her skates into the snow. "Two new things in one day."

"Yes," Ichabod agreed. "I am-" He swallowed hurriedly as the hot chocolate burned the roof of his mouth. "Acclimatizing."

Abbie just laughed quietly, putting her mug into the snow. "You're starting to get the hang of this, though, skating," she said, gesturing to the lake. "You're able to glide without hanging onto both of my hands."

"Oh." Crane lowered his mug, fixing her with an incredulous look. "'Gliding' is far too graceful a term for the attempts I was making. 'Slipping' is more correct."

"Slipping, sliding, gliding." Abbie shrugged. "You're almost well enough to skate on your own."

Ichabod, if he had been taking a drink, probably would have choked over it. "Not nearly, Lieutenant. I wouldn't dream to think that I could manage this without your presence."

Abbie raised her eyebrows. "Wait, are you saying that... you appreciate me a little?"

Ichabod smiled at the remembered conversation. It seemed ages ago. "Microscopically," he replied teasingly.

Abbie laughed again and stood up. "Wanna go again?"

Ichabod took a large gulp of the hot chocolate before setting it aside. "Oh, yes." He staggered to his feet. "I am determined, if nothing else."

"Oh, trust me, I know."

They trekked back to the frozen lake and Ichabod reached for Abbie's hand this time. She was right; he could manage without hanging onto both of her hands now, but he still preferred the constant presence of having the support at his side. So, he slipped his fingers alongside hers and held on loosely as they stepped out onto the ice. Their gloves were abandoned at their makeshift campsite - more technically, an impromptu place to drink their hot chocolate where a fallen tree was of utmost convenience.

Abbie's fingers were still warm from the mug and Crane again marvelled at the smallest things in this new, complex life.

**Author's Note:**

> After having about an hour discussion with a family member about why Ichabbie is awesome, I asked for a prompt and was given ice skating. I'm still trying to find my niche in this fandom, so bear with me if the story-telling is a little shoddy in places.
> 
> I do not own _Sleepy Hollow_. Thanks for reading.


End file.
